


Regret

by TracedViolet



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Choking, F/M, Its a miserable time, With a side of angst, dub-con, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:54:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27700328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TracedViolet/pseuds/TracedViolet
Summary: Eridan is asexual, but doesnt have a word for it. he simply thinks he is broken. So, when Vriska is interested in spicing things up in their relationship, he forces himself to play along for fear of being outed. It doesn't end well.
Relationships: Eridan Ampora/Vriska Serket
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> for the sake of me not having to explain why and how platforms and recooprecoons work, trolls have beds now. K? cool.
> 
> also, I think this goes without saying, but rape is wrong and Vriska is wrong for what she does. Even though Eridan doesn't explicitly say no and I make her apoligize (Which is a little OOC) it doesnt mean what happened wasn't rape.

Your name is Eridan Ampora and growing up scares the shit out of you. It's hard and nobody understands and they probably never will because you could never tell them what's wrong with you. there are so many things wrong with you and you're pretty sure one of them might possibly cost you your life. Because here on Alternia, when one reaches a certain age, there's a particular requirement. A responsibility to further the race by means that anytime you think about, you find yourself contemplating suicide rather than accept that this is your future. 

As for your present? you are trying to watch TV. You know the copious amounts of sex or general absence of clothing is what people like to see. I mean they broadcast this nonsense for a reason, but personally it just makes you uncomfortable. The supposed "hot cast" means nothing to you. You couldn't tell why they would choose one incompetent halfwit to play the lead over some other one. Fuck, you could replace the main guy with the background guy from two scenes ago and it wouldnt make a difference to you. They're just trolls. They all look the same.

If anyone knew how disinterested in the subject of sex you were, you’re positive it would be your head on the Condess' personal fucking dining plate. To prevent this from happening you just became a really good liar. Some people actually think you're legitimately interested in all the “crushes” you’ve had and the celebrity gossip of who's the “sexiest troll alive” but the truth is you study love and drama like it’s the Rosetta Stone to the pointless babble of society. You just need to know enough to blend in and sometimes it’s not so awful but right now you would much rather be doing anything else. However, Feferi demanded you watch this show as it is only "the best s)(ow on alternian tele-fis)(-ion!!!" but you would absolutely argue that if they broadcast open ocean on a channel for 24 hours, it would be ten times more interesting than this dreadful excuse for entertainment. 

There’s a sudden knock on the door that saves your tortured brain from any more of “Highblood Diaries”.

"What’s up, fishface." Vriska says more of a statement than a question. She flicks your glasses up and invites herself in, falling onto the couch and kicking her feet onto the coffee table before you even have a chance to respond. You call her your kismesis because while you hate her fucking guts and you have an undying need to be better than her at literally everything that exists, you still enjoy her company and willingly seek it out in the event you need an outlet for some unresolved anger.

You don't really care about quadrants but you know it’s what you should be thinking about so you attempt to fill them as best you can. To be honest no matter what quadrant you put someone in, they all seem to filter into the moirail zone eventually and you think they know this too but you hope they write it off as you being just a little odd, maybe a little over sharing, but hopefully they never find out that you are missing a fundamental part of being a troll, because the last thing you want anyone to know, is that you are broken.

It's not that you don't get those fuzzy feelings because trust you, you do. They just don't happen from looking at other people. Sometimes your body hurts a certain way and you learned that if you rubbed your bulge for a while it eventually goes away, replaced by empty relief and an understandable stomachache. It's more of an annoyance, like scratching an itch than anything pleasurable and you sometimes have trouble distinguishing this feeling from being hungry or any other physical need. It’s just a thing that happens sometimes. At its most useful, you do it just to exhaust yourself when you can't seem to fall asleep. You have hands and you don't understand why anyone else needs to be involved. Whatever drive other people have that makes them want to jump onto tv stars and fuck them senseless, you don't have that and it's becoming increasingly more difficult these days to hide it because sexual experimentation isn't just kissing somebody anymore. It's the whole nine yards and you don't like the sound of that. You never grew out of the "kissing is icky" stage and you still pretend to gag at make out scenes. Sometimes you literally do. You can't even fathom the idea of engaging in something like sex. It's simply repulsive.

“Nothin, just…wwatchin T.Vv. I guess.” you try not to sound so bored because when you sound bored she likes to play games and you’re really just not in the mood today. 

“Gods eridan that sounds so 8ooooooooring.” she whines “why would you ever?”

“Fef recommended this lame ass showw.”

“Oh i get it! You're trying to get at her through her interests. Good move play8oy but you gotta do more than that. If you wanna get in her pants you're gonna have to know what you're doing.” 

You make a face, but don’t do much more than that. The fuck is she talking about?

"So." Vriska prompts,. “Completely unrelated, I have some thoughts a8out what we should do tonight.” she leans forward towards you and you lean back against the side of the couch trying to keep your distance from her. Her eyes level at your lips as she walks her fingers up your stomach to your chest. You swallow hard and look away. 

“And that is….?” you say as confidently as you can muster despite the fact that you are not feeling very confident at all. Why this all of a sudden? Why did she pick now of all times to burst into your house and try and put the moves on you? You feel incredibly anxious and out of your element. You can only fake so much and the direction she is going in is unmarked territory for you. 

Vriska smiles a toothy grin and leans in to kiss you. You want to lean away but you don't. You just sit there like a chump and let her. You crush your lips against hers in the most awkward way possible, but she doesn't seem to really mind. Instead, she grabs the sides of your face and pulls you deeper into it. Her lips are warm you suppose and it's not that terrible but your heart is beating so fast right now you think it might beat right out of your chest. You simply do not want this. 

She runs her hand up and down your thigh and it feels like fire burning you. It's too soft and sweet for her. It's too soothing of a gesture and it doesn't soothe you at all. It makes your whole body tense up and it takes all your energy to try and calm down.

Unfortunately, she completely misreads you stiffening up as a sign of arousal and decides to go further. She pushes you down on the couch and rubs her hand against your bulge. You gasp and grip her arms like you’re going to stop her but the part of your brain that has any sense at all knows that would ruin your relationship with her forever so you let your hands fall to her wrist. One hand tangles with hers and the other you decide to run up the inside of her sleeve. People like skin on skin, right? That's supposed to be a good feeling. She smirks and takes her jacket off and tosses it onto the floor. Thank god she had to take her hands off your crotch to do that but then she leans in close and asks “you wanna take this upstairs?” 

No. 

You force a smile.

NO.

“o-ok”

NO!

She smiles and takes your hand and leads you all the way upstairs to your respite block. Every step feels like gravity has increased tenfold but you don’t slow your pace. You dont let on at all that this isn't what you want. This is what's expected of you, right? It’s now or never so you might as well get this over with. 

She pulls you over to the bed and pushes you down onto it, then grips the bottom of your shirt to pull it off. her hands fall over your chest as she leans in to kiss you. You do your best to mimic her movements. Kissing back like you should, but it's difficult. Your body is fighting with everything it's got not to do this but your brain is fighting back to go full force because if you don’t she’ll probably have you killed. You try to focus on her hands instead. Try to find some sort of comfort in them. They’re warm and soft and while you don’t exactly want to be touched right now, it's better than if she was using her claws. Her gentle kisses turn very strange when she darts her tongue out to lick at your lips. You think she must want to put her tongue in your mouth. Fuck this is disgusting, but you have to oblige, you part your lips just a little and she forces her way in. her tongue touches yours for a brief moment and you finally lose it, immediately recoiling. 

“What?” she asks, a little annoyed. You assume it's because she was having a good time while you were very much not. 

“Nothing!” you blurt out. Desperately trying to defend yourself. “I just…” but you don't have an excuse. You don't have any plausible reason not to be into this right now. Vriska is attractive and into you and you said you were into this too so why not? Why are you suddenly panicking? You look at her with pleading eyes that beg her to understand something she could never. Especially if you're not even going to explain.

“Please” you think “Please don’t kill me.”

“Oh my gods! You are such a virgin!” she says and starts to laugh.

You blink. What?

“It's ok if you haven't done it 8efore. ok? I figured this was your first time anyway so whatever. I suppose I’ll go slow. Consider this a favor. You’ll have to return it at some point.” she laughs again at your perceived inadequacy. As if the thought of being a virgin had ever even mattered to you. As if you cared to be rid of the title. Well, you do care. If only to not be forced by imperial guards into offering up your genetic fluid on command or worse, killed for non-compliance . Or worse than that, killed by your friends for being such a fucking weird ass waste of space. Ugh! Why does being a troll have to be so hard? 

You take a very slow deep breath in and then look at Vriska with the most vulnerability you’ve ever shown her. “Do you promise?” 

She looks confused at first, but after seeing that you truly need her to promise, she does. In a tone that as closely matches your own that Vriska is probably capable of she says “I promise.” 

Vriska takes her shirt off as well, revealing her black bra with blue trim. She unclips the back and lets her breasts fall free. You’ve seen breasts before. Its not like this is a new experience for you. You suppose hers are nice in comparison to others you have seen. She must have noticed you staring because she takes your hands and presses them to her chest. You, unsure of what else to do here, squeeze them. They are soft and fleshy, but also firm in a way. You thumb over her nipples and she makes a sound that you're not sure if it was genuine or just an affirmation to you that that was the right move. You assume the latter and continue to rub at her nipples until she leans down to kiss you again.   
it's softer, more careful this time. Very much unlike her. You wonder if she really is doing all this for you. She undoes the button to your pants and unzips them, slipping her hand under the elastic of your underwear. You tense up but don’t try to stop her. Instead you take a deep breath in and try to relax. Her fingers wrap around your bulge and pull it free from your boxer briefs. She starts to stroke and you try your damndest not to hold your breath. There's no way you could do so until this was over. 

Vriska kisses your cheek and your ear before whispering quietly, “do you like that?” and something in your body turns on. You're not sure why or how but her words stroked your mind much like her hands stroked your bulge. You feel yourself getting hard, but you don’t answer her question because really the answer is still no. Yes, your body seems to like this, but you still very much don’t. 

Vriska backs off for just a moment to take her pants and underwear off. She pulls at yours as well and you force yourself to let her strip you. You feel hot and uncomfortable. Shameful and exposed. Your face must be flushing bright violet now. 

she giggles at how “shy” you are and returns her hands to your bulge to squeeze and tug on it in a true Vriska fashion. She must be getting bored of being nice. You wince a little but this only eggs her on. She strokes harder and faster and starts to bite at your neck. You make a pained sound but she must mistake it for pleasure because she decides to bite down harder, this time drawing blood. “V-vris-” you try to say but instead she just smashes her mouth to yours again and forces her tongue inside. 

You want to gag and push her off but she grabs your hands and pins them on either side of your head before you even get the chance. You don't even know what kissing back would look like at this point so you just lay there and take it. She lowers her hips against yours and starts to grind her nook against you, moaning again. Despite the ridiculousness of it, this time you think it must be real because she's definitely not thinking of your feelings at all in this moment. 

Eventually she removes her tongue from your mouth and you gasp for breath, a trail of spit between the two of you. She lets her tongue hang out of her mouth to exaggerate it. As if this would rile you up in any way. She reaches down between the two of you and grabs your bulge again this time angling it into her nook. You know for a fact you are not feeling what she is feeling. Your body is aroused but you are not having the pleasurable time she is. You try to look away from what she's doing, try to focus more on the feeling than the action. But as she lowers herself onto your bulge, moaning out again in a way that feels so fake to you, you can only imagine that this is what hell feels like.

The inside of her nook is slick and slimy. More so than your bulge ever is. It's hot and tight around you and pulls at you as she moves herself up and down. She's slow at first but then picks up her pace as she grinds her hips into yours. You can't help but whine at how terribly uncomfortable this is. Her weight on top of you is unbearable, not because she's particularly heavy but because you simply don't want her there. She's nowhere near your chest but you feel like you can't breathe. It comes out in short jagged gasps and she laughs because once again she has mistaken this for a sign of pleasure. 

You try and stare at the ceiling, but she grabs your face and forces you to look her in the eyes. They're half lidded and dazed, like she's been put in a trance. You can't imagine you look anything like that. Her smile is warped and she's drooling. It's gross and you don't want any of it on you. Her hands that were gripping your wrists finally let go but before you can push her off, her hands fall to your gills and you gasp. Those aren’t hers to touch. They're not for anyone but you but she's digging her fingers into them and watching as you short circuit. You suddenly can't move your arms. You can't move anything. You're filled with fear and pain and the tinge of some minor sadness that your relationship will never be the same after this. You will never be the same after this. 

She rides you for what feels like forever, you wonder if it's your fault for not thinking hard enough about what would make you cum the fastest. But eventually you feel it coming. Your stomach twists in that familiar way and all your muscles start to tense up. You try to tell her something. Anything to let her know that now would be a good time to bring out her bucket but she reaches out with a hand and covers your mouth. You cannot speak. She doesn't want you to. That would probably ruin her moment. you feel genetic material spurt out of you and into her. She moans and cums herself spilling her material all over your lower half and it makes you want to vomit. You realize too late that there never was a bucket. She intended to make a mess of the both of you from the start. 

The rest of the night is a blur. She does this multiple times. Toying with you. Playing with you. After the first time, you lost your ability to speak so whatever ‘No!”s you had in you before, they all vanished. 

One time, after your release she continues to stroke you hard and fast trying to get you to cum a second time right after. It's painful and you cry out. Try to claw her hands off but eventually you do cum and she laughs and laughs. You wish you were dead.

Another time, she wraps her hand around your throat and squeezes. The air you take in feels like it's barely reaching your lungs. It's so hard to breathe. The only thing you had left was breathing and she's taken that away too. She thrusts into you fast and hard, a twisted smile on her face. You close your eyes as tight as you can and try not to cry. As long as you don't cry you win, right? 

It happens again. And again. And again. You're not sure exactly when it stops but when it does, you don't even bother thanking any gods. You stopped believing in them a long time ago for letting such a thing happen to you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> she apologizes. shes not very good at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, not a fix, just an apology.

Your eyes flutter open and the soft light that filters through the window tells you it’s probably a little before twelve. You don’t want to get up. You want to stay here until the foggy confusion passes but you know Vriska is wandering around your house somewhere, probably making food and hoping you’ll wake up soon. you close your eyes again and try to pull the blankets over your head but you slowly become more and more aware of your own body and where you are and you don’t feel quite so good anymore. In fact, you feel gross, sick and incredibly sore.

You force yourself to sit up and immediately wince in pain at the weight of your body, pressing your nook against the mattress. You cover your mouth so she doesn’t hear whatever dreadful sound you just made. You are much more than a little sore.

You manage to get up and shuffle to the ablution trap because if you want anything right now, it’s a blistering hot shower to wash away all the terrible things you feel. 

Your feet barely make a sound as they press softly into the thick carpet. You’ve done enough sneaking around to know which places on your floor creak and which don’t and you are almost positive she doesn't even know you’re up which is good. you could probably convince yourself you’re alone to quiet the building anxiety over the situation.

You close the door and lock it, more than a little paranoid that someone will burst in and expose how wrong you were about your decisions last night. They seemed so right at the time. To share such intimate moments with her. But you didn't account for the pain and the amount of lies you would still be telling about yourself and your limits. 

Sex shouldn’t come with damage assessment. You are completely sure of this, and yet you stand there, staring at yourself in the mirror, brushing your fingers over all the places that hurt and making a lot of painful expressions. You look more like you got into a car crash or a really bad fight then had a heated sleepover with someone you vaguely liked. There’s purple bruises and scratch marks and you swear you can make out the shape of her fingers where she was grabbing around your throat. You don’t think you like her much anymore. 

You wonder why you didn’t just stop her or at least tell her to slow down, tell her it hurt and to go a little easier but you were trying not to be weak. You’d rather just shut up and take it because that's how you’ve been taught to deal with things. The thought that you could say something wasn’t right and it wouldn’t be considered whining never crossed your mind. Everyone always says how you whine and complain too much. You’ve found it serves you much better to just suck it up these days. 

You turn the shower on and close the frosted glass door, letting the scalding water cascade down your back and arms, burning away all the shame you feel. It feels so hot and so perfect, you could stand here forever but your legs are really shaky and unstable. You sort of lean against the wall and slide down to sit on the tile floor wincing again at how bad it hurts to do that. You don’t want to think about it. You want to pretend it didn’t happen. That you didn’t do it but god it hurts so bad and you can't help but feel violated and abused and it's not her fault. it's not her fault; it’s yours.

A strangled sound escapes your lips. You can't keep yourself together anymore. You just start to cry, letting the sobs wrack your body that is much more fragile than you’d like to admit. Your pride is much stronger than you are and that’s what gets you into situations like this. You weren’t thinking about yourself. You didn’t care. You just didn’t want to die or at the very least not disappoint her. You just wanted to make her happy and make her feel good and you certainly accomplished that but the repercussions of your actions were ten times as agonizing as you thought they would be. Mostly because you didn’t account for the pain that wasn’t directly physical.

After you calm down a bit and scrub the feeling of her hands off your body, you turn the water off and wrap a warm towel around yourself, praying for time to stop so that you don’t have to ever get out of it. It’s a more comforting feeling than the touch of any person you’ve ever known and that might have made you sad once upon a time but you're just apathetic about it all now. You're jaded and you always will be. There’s not much anyone can do for someone as hopeless as you.

With one hand you wipe away the steam from the mirror and try to identify the person staring back. It’s not always you, you’ve gotten used to that and as of right now, you're almost glad it's not you. Whoever the troll in the mirror is they don’t look nearly as damaged as you feel.  
You put on a black t-shirt, boxers and pajama pants. You glance one more time at yourself and fix your hair so it vaguely matches whatever the hell style you would call this. Trying-to-pretend-you-don’t-want-to-die? yeah that sounds about right.

You walk down the stairs how you assume you usually do and try not to show how much it hurts or how sick you feel. Whatever she is cooking might as well be burning flesh as far as you're concerned but you swallow hard and try to look as natural as possible.

“Morning sleepy head :::;) You take foooooooorever to get up. bacon?” her voice is condescending and awful and it makes your skin crawl and you manage to shake your head no as opposed to throwing up on her which is an achievement in itself but she notices there's something wrong and you feel the metaphorical ground slip out from underneath you.

“You ok?” she asks. It sounds vaguely annoyed, like she doesn't want to deal with whatever isn’t ok. She goes to put her hand on your head to check if you have a fever and you flich. You couldn’t help it. She pulls her hand back, looking slightly offended and you hate yourself with a passion.

“-m fine.” you try to say but it sounds more like terrified incoherent mumbling than reassurance. you feel like your throat is closing up and oh gods. why can't you fucking talk and just act normal. She just stares at you confused and not sure what to do. You don't want to hate her like this, but at the moment she’s only reminding you of things you want to forget. Things you have to forget. You can’t stop your thoughts from replaying it over and over and you feel like you're going to pass out. You pull a chair out and put your head on the counter. It’s cold and nice and you don’t even notice the pain of your sudden movement.

“I’m sorry. I don't…. feel so good….” you say as if that’s a proper description of the anxiety attack you are trying to swallow down. You think this time she hears it because she says something like “um...ok….” and goes back to the stove before she burns anything. It’s easier to talk to the countertop. The countertop is just as empty and lifeless as you are so you know it won't judge you. Not for your choices and not for your inability to look at your kismesis. You look at the clock and try to calculate how long it will be until she absolutely has to go home and the numbers a bit daunting but you’ll find a way to manage. You always do.

You spend a couple minutes pretending you don't exist as she silently eats your food in your house at your table and you feel all kinds of uncomfortable. It’s not her fault, you know it’s not but you can't help but feel awful things bubbling up inside of you. it’s not the good kind of hate, but it's not the bad kind either. It’s the sad, painful kind that hurts you more than it hurts them.  
She takes a piece of bacon and bites into it, chuckling to herself. “This bacon is thicker than you are.’ her chuckling turns to cackling. Your stomach just turns. 

Your claws scrape against the counter top and she turns around to look at you. “Ok what the fuck is up with you. First you say your sick and then you-”

And then you scream at her. “Really? Fuckin really??” you yell, “After all that! After evverythin I wwent through and I wwasnt even that good of a fuck?!”

“Eridan it was a joke. Fucking chill.”

“Chill?! Howw can I chill wwhen I thought I did evverythin right! I did everything I wwas supposed to and you’re still not happy!” 

“happy? What are you talking a8out?”

“Evverythin I did wwas for you! And noww you’re tellin me you didn't evven like it?? Wwhat the fuck wwas the point then! Wwhy did I even bother pretenedin to-....” you stop. 

“Pretending to what.” Her voice is low and measured. You realize she’s starting to figure it out.

Your lip quivers. “Pretendin to like it.”

She puts her food down. “You didn't like it.” she states. 

You don't answer. 

“Eridan!”

“Wwhat.”

“You're supposed to tell people when you don't like it!” she says it with anger. You begin to suspect that you've made this a whole lot worse that if you had maybe said something sooner. You put your head in your hands. “Look at me.” you do not. “Look at me!” she repeats and you barely lift your head.

Vriska is staring at you with an intensity you cannot place. “You have to tell someone when you don’t like it otherwise you get hurt. Are you saying I hurt you?”

Don't cry. Don't cry. If you cry in front of her you lose, but the tears spill out of your eyes before you can stop them. You don't make a sound but it's over. You've committed the ultimate taboo for a kismesis. This relationship might as well be dead right here because you've officially forced her to pity you. There's no going back now. She either has to leave or flip red and you dont think she's capable of flipping red for anybody.

She walks out from behind the counter and you prepare to hear the door slam. For her to leave and tell everyone what a worthless piece of shit you are. But she stops by your side and places her hand gently on top of your head. She doesn’t say she’s sorry. She doesn't offer you any words of comfort. But she pats the space right between your horns, and whispers quietly, “shoosh.” 

Your throat tightens up and you take one shaky breath before breaking down into a fit of sobs that rivals any you've ever had before. You put your head in your hands again and just cry like the chance will never come again. You cry and cry and she pats your head softly, barely. She doesn't do anything more than the bare minimum a moirail would in such a situation. Not because she feels like it, only because you need it. 

“I dont want to die!” you finally choke out.

“Die? What are you talking about?” it's that soft and measured voice you've only heard once before. When this whole thing started  
.  
“If anyone finds out I don’t like it they’ll fuckin kill me!”

“Nobodys going to fucking kill you.”

‘Yes they will! That’s what happens to trolls who don’t reproduce”

“It's too early to say that. Maybe…. Maybe you're just a late bloomer…” she seems really uncomfortable by all this and at this point despite saying you don't want to, you kind of do want to die right now. 

“I’m sorry.” you try to back peddle, your voice, hoarse and choked.

She scoffs. “What are you apologizing for? You didn't do anything wrong.”

“For makin you pity me.” you say. 

“I don't pity you.” she says, but her face tells a different story. And so do her hands. You wonder how much of this she's doing just to cover her own ass. To make sure to pacify you before you tell anyone what she did to you. 

As if you could ever tell anyone what she did to you. 

Her hand moves to the base of one of your horns, rubbing the spot where it meets your head. You take a shaky breath as you feel your body start to relax, closing your eyes and letting the calm wash over you. 

“Is this… helping?” she asks.

“Y-yeah.” you say, but you know full well it’s only biology. Much like how your body was forced into being aroused, she is taking advantage of the fact that you can force it into passivity. But you don’t really mind this time. You don’t like to cry. You definitely don't like to cry in front of Vriska, so you will take whatever you get. 

You stay like this for a long time or at least it feels that way. When she finally removes her hands, you’re left with a tingling sensation and a familiar sense of loneliness.

“Did I really hurt you?” She asks. Her emotion is hard to place. Like she’s unsure what she feels herself. Like she doesn’t want to know the answer. There’s sadness but also anger in her question. Anger at herself or you, you’re not sure. Possibly both. You don't know how to feel about that yourself. 

You don’t want to answer either but you look at her and nod.

She bites her lip, you think it might be to stop herself from yelling at you again. “Was it all 8ad? all of it?” It’s like she’s desperately trying to find a way out of this. That if you enjoyed even a little bit, it wouldn’t be considered….

You do not finish that thought. It was all bad. Every second. But you don’t say that. You just nod again and run your fingers over the bruises and scrapes.

She taps a claw on the counter. She looks at the clock. She wonders how badly it could ruin her reputation to do this. You're sure of it, but she finally whispers, almost inaudibly next to you. “I’m sorry” 

It’s not a good apology. She doesn’t truly feel it all the way. It’s half done out of obligation only and you can tell she is conflicted to even say it at all. It doesn’t help. It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t undo what’s been done to you, but for some reason, it’s better to know it wasn’t her intention. That she really thought you were having a good time. You feel a slight bit of relief knowing that, for once, Vriska hadn’t tried to be malicious towards you. 

If your kismesisitude is not salvageable, perhaps this strange thing called friendship still is. Perhaps you can remain in each other’s company at a comfortable distance where she never touches you again. Perhaps you really can go your whole life never having to experience this again.

Maybe. 

But that’s a thought for another day.


End file.
